


(youth)-(молодежь)

by KristleTribble



Series: VB Week 2017 (Yuri!!! On Ice) [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Dreams vs. Reality, M/M, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristleTribble/pseuds/KristleTribble
Summary: Part two of Viktor's Birthday Week 2017 (a Tumblr based fan week).Viktor's dreams always seem to have a common theme: vanity, and how youth is a key to happiness.Yuuri's presence reminds him that reality, age, is the better choice, the peace that Viktor really needs after so long.





	(youth)-(молодежь)

Yuuri's voice cut through the darkness. "Viktor, don't cut your hair."

 

_Why?_

 

"Your hair, it's a beautiful length. It keeps you looking young."

 

_Why should I be vain?_

 

Viktor felt lukewarm skin cupping the sides of his face, though he could see nothing. He heard only the gentle sighs of Yuuri somewhere around him.

 

"Because you look attractive with long hair. That's all there is to it, Vitya..."

 

Wind blew on his neck, and Viktor decided it must have been from Yuuri's breathing. He heard the sudden sound of skates on frosty ice, and suddenly the crisp winter light revealed the sealine of Hasetsu to his blue irises.

 

_What a beautiful Christmas Eve._

 

"I couldn't agree more, Viktor."

 

Viktor's long hair tried to fly away in the draft of Arctic wind, gray on white, his hand on Yuuri's in joy --

 

\-- then a different kind of cold. Darkness again, but not absolute. He could make out the outline of Yuuri's back against the lamplight.

 

_Why do you want to stop this?_

 

"I'm tying you down. I'm failing your career. I need to stop depending on you for my own problem-solving."

 

He felt the creep of cold over his heart, the nostalgic snare of his memories snatching up to claim him from rationality...

 

_Yuuri!_

 

_Yuuri, stop this!_

 

_You aren't causing me grief, I promise._

 

"Yuuri...please..."

 

And, as soon as it had started, the dream was over. Viktor's own voice had summoned him from the turbulence of his dreams.

 

He reached up to feel his hair, rediscovering the short length that never really grew anymore. No long locks would return to him out of his youthful past.

 

He was alone in reality, yet Viktor was convinced Yuuri was beside him, in his dreams. A wave of disappointment washed over his muscled frame as he shook his body awake. Blankets fell away to the floor.

 

"The same dream again...."

 

Makkachin ran rings around Viktor's legs on the skater's approach to the kitchen. "Have you seen Yuuri today, Makka?" But the response of a bark told Viktor nothing.

 

The question was rhetorical, more of a calm measure for Viktor than a serious gathering of information. He took a seat at the dining room table and buried his face in his bare arms. Lukewarm skin. His dream haunted him still.

 

"I don't need long hair to be attractive...silly Yuuri..." And yet the contortions of his soul reminded him of his age, nigh near 29, wondering what he could expect of aging.

 

"And yet, I want to say I'm ready. Ready to leave my vanity behind."

 

Makkachin looked up at his owner from between his legs, his paws on the chair. One messy slobber of a lick, and Viktor could feel the heaviness easing off of his mind. "When will I stop these dreams, my precious one?"

 

The slide of a door hinge echoed to the skater's ears, alerting him to the presence of another person. His shoulders tensed.

 

"Viktor~??? I'm back from practice, are you feeling better?"

 

He kept his face down, to the table. His mouth threatened to betray the excitement coursing in his body. Makkachin had left, off to greet Yuuri.

 

"...Vitya??" Viktor shut his eyes tightly and tried to feign sleep. He didn't want to talk right now, not when his emotions could give him away so easily.

 

The firm footsteps of his husband gradually stopped. There was a rustle of a coat being hung, boots being removed. "Oh, he's asleep at the table?"

 

Viktor stood up wearily and turned to see Yuuri standing in front of him.

 

"Are you feeling okay? You should go back to sleep if you feel dizzy again." The shorter skater placed a lukewarm palm against Viktor's cheeks, examining the bags under his eyes.

 

"Yuuri..."

 

"You didn't sleep well again."

 

"Yuuri, I had the same dream again."

 

His husband tugged his arm, the two of them walking to the bedroom. Yuuri tried to convince Viktor to lie down beside him, giving an invitation for the warming space beneath the blankets.

 

Gentle chiding. "You shouldn't try to force your body. You look really delirious."

 

"I'm not becoming weak."

 

"I never said you were...you're just sick."

 

"I'm not so old that I'll let a fever best me."

 

"Viktor. You're not superhuman. Lie down."

 

"No, love. I don't want to."

 

"What is going on? You look even worse than when I left this morning, and you were nauseous then." Yuuri sat up and touched Viktor's arm.

 

"It's the dreams." Without command, Viktor found himself sitting down on the covers next to Yuuri.

 

"...The dreams are making you sick?"

 

"Nostalgia. Myself, clinging pathetically to vanity, youth. I had my long hair and young charm again. It was still so confusing, you praising me for attractiveness. Whispering in my ear that my youth made me beautiful."

 

"Viktor. Listen to me." The Russian turns his eyes away from the bed sheets, to meet Yuuri's confident gaze. "I love you."

 

"I don't care how old you are. That doesn't matter to me. You look attractive with any length of hair. You could be bald and I would still kiss you. You need to get over this sickness."

 

"Yuuri..."

 

"I know you're really conscious about your age. Don't let it consume you. Lie down, I don't want to see you ill like this".

 

Viktor reluctantly edged underneath the covers, remaining near the edge of the sheets. Yuuri recognized the distance and quickly slid closer, hugging the Russian without hesitation.

 

The Japanese man's hair brushed against Viktor's neck. "I always think you're beautiful. You don't need to be young."

 

The older skater felt a wetness accumulate in his eyelids, spilling over the sides of his pale cheeks. "I don't understand."

 

"You shouldn't have to. Viktor -- wait, are you crying??" Yuuri looked up and immediately smiled.

 

"I'm such an ugly crier, Yuuri....I know..." Viktor turned his face to hide his cheeks in the nearest blanket fold.

 

"Wha-- n-not at all! Viktor, you're just as gorgeous when you're sad!" Yuuri snuggled as close as he could and kissed a tear on his husband's jawline. "Look at me."

 

"You are amazingly beautiful. I want you to sleep now, ok? It's the middle of the day, but I will stay here with you if it means you'll get better rest."

 

Viktor was convinced it was the most dreamless sleep he had experienced in weeks.


End file.
